Wrote My Way Out
by Paggers
Summary: Alexander Hamilton is a struggling author who is having a complete writing mental block. He's about to start back at his job teaching in the local elementary school when he meets John Laurens, a young therapist/doctor on the plane home.
1. Chapter 1

I boarded the plane with my carry-on in hand. I took my seat next to the window and opened my book, letting the words drown out the sound of the people finding their seats; my nerves diminished slightly by the comfort of knowing that every page I turned would reveal deeper truth behind the novel.

A man with dark, curly hair thrown into a messy bun took the seat next to me. He smiled, though I knew that he wasn't going to hear anything I would say to him as he had his headphones on. I mouthed a simple 'hi' and returned to my book. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him pull out a sketchbook and drink from a travel mug. God, I would kill for a coffee.

I hadn't had a chance to have one this morning. The trip back home to Puerto Rico had been very last minute to begin with and I couldn't wait to leave again. Too many memories. The frantic rush to get my things together this morning had meant that I had little time to grab the drink from the hotel café. It would have to wait till I got back to New York.

I would miss my island, however. Perhaps not the past that haunted me here, but certainly the music, the food, the atmosphere. Vega Alta had been my home for the first decade of my life and it would always hold a place in my heart, but still, I couldn't stay too long. It was too much.

I sighed more dramatically than intended and turned back the page, my mind had travelled elsewhere and I had no idea what was going on with the characters.

"You doing okay there?" The man who had sat down next to me asked. He had taken his headphones off and was lightly scratching a pencil across his paper.

"Oh, yeah. Just lost focus on this page, it's so annoying when that happens."

It was then that I noticed how… attractive… he was. Loose curls had escaped the black tie holding them together and hung in front of his stunningly green eyes. They were bright with flecks of gold scattered in the iris, not different to the millions of freckles across his face. I bit at the inside of my cheek in response to the thoughts invading my mind.

"I feel that. Something on your mind? Nervous flyer?" His voice was sympathetic as he cast his eyes over me. I shuddered in my seat.

"Uh, no. Not anymore. Just tired I think. Low on caffeine, probably."

He opened his mouth to speak again but was silenced by the flight attendant who had addressed the passengers. She listed off the hundreds of safety procedures that I knew by heart. The way she said them sounded as if we were definitely all going to plummet into the ocean as soon as we took off, much to the distress of the children on the plane. I heard them crying and screaming. I wanted nothing more than to stop the woman traumatising these kids like I had been traumatised at their age. I bit my tongue and turned back to the book.

The engines were loud in my ears as the plane took flight. They popped and I grinned, remembering how much it had confused me the first time it had happened. I read some more but I felt my eyelids beginning to droop as I finished the chapter. They felt so heavy and it wasn't long before I gave in to the temptation of sleep.

I dreamt of my early childhood days, running along the beach with my brother, playing in the sand, dancing in the streets during the festivals which went on - starting in the daytime going all through the night. I was so happy. We were all so happy.

I woke from my dream feeling both happy and sad. It took me a moment to remember where I was. When I did, I sat up straight and felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me, like the sea crashing against the rocks along the coast. I had fallen asleep on the stranger's shoulder and felt my cheeks burn, mortified. I began to pour out apologies, unable to stop the flow.

"I am so so sorry. I didn't realise. God, I'm so sorry."

He put up his hand, dismissing my worries, "it's not a problem, honestly. If it was then I would have woken you up. No harm done. I'm John Laurens by the way, nice to meet you."

"Alexander Hamilton, but Alex is fine."

"We've got about half an hour till we land in New York."

"I slept that long?" I ran my hand through my chocolate brown hair.

"I didn't want to wake you up, you looked peaceful." He smiled again, flashing his lips which were also painted with freckles.

"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to fall asleep."

"I know, I'm not mad. Like you said, you were super low on caffeine," he twisted one of the fallen curls at the back of his neck, "this is gonna sound crazy but… you wouldn't wanna go for a coffee some time, would you? It's just that there's this new café that opened in my district… and you strike me as the coffee type."

I laughed in surprise. My exhaustion stopped my ability to argue the pros and cons of this proposal and without thinking, I said, " you know what? I'd actually… I'd like that. Sure, why the hell not? Pass me your phone, I'll put in my number."

He laughed, too, "sweet! I promise I'm not a murderer or anything," he added quickly, passing me his phone.

I added my number to his contact list and, out of habit, clicked the home button. His background had a little kid, no older than seven I'd say. Absolutely adorable, his tongue sticking out, holding up a drawing. He had shortish hair, but brown ringlets still sprang out at awkward angles. He closely resembled John and I wondered… perhaps? He had the same eyes, the same facial features, the same freckles. It wasn't a huge leap to piece them together. A nephew? A… son?

"So, John, where exactly is this district where you won't be murdering me?"

I decided not to ask about the kid and passed him his phone back.

"Washington Heights. Well, the café is just around the corner, but I live in Washington Heights." He was tripping over his words. I made him nervous. I liked that.

"Ha! No way. Me, too. How have I never seen you around?"

"I dunno, I guess I'm out a lot. And I only moved there a few years ago."

"That's crazy. What are the odds?" I smiled reassuringly, he looked even more nervous than before and I knew that feeling all too well.

"Well," he coughed, recollecting himself, "that makes you coming to this coffee shop with me a lot less of an inconvenience, right?"

"Sure does, I couldn't refuse now if I wanted to, not that I do want to refuse."

We got off the plane and waited to collect our luggage. We decided that if we were going the same way then we might as well go together. He grabbed his suitcase and it was noticeably bigger than mine. I wondered if _his_ was bigger than mine, too. _Alex, stop._

I picked up my _smaller_ rucksack and we started to make our way towards the subway. We got on the A-train and laughed at the rudeness of people in New York in comparison to those in Vega Alta. The people were definitely one of the factors making me miss my island.

We walked through the street and parted ways at the corner bodega.

"Well, text me. We can arrange that coffee."

"I will, and I'll hold you to it. Till next time, Mr. Hamilton!"

"Later, Mr. Laurens!" I saluted casually and turned around, heading for my apartment.

I walked with a newfound confidence I hadn't felt in a long time. It was mixed with the usual butterfly feeling in my stomach, but for the first time since I could remember, I was filled with an excitement that could fuel a rocket to Mars.

I turned the corner, past the kids playing with the fire hydrant as they did every summer. They were getting their fun in now before they'd have to go back to school in a few days. My apartment building was so easy to point out, my apartment in particular because hanging from one of the windows was a French flag contrasting with my own Puerto Rican flag. The vibrant colours illuminated the streets as the music bounced off of the walls. It wasn't the island, but it was sure as Hell the next best thing.

I unlocked the door and found Laf, my roommate and best friend, napping on the sofa, a book resting on his chest. His black afro was out of its usual bun and was a mess on the arm of the couch. I laughed to myself at the thought of him waking up to see such a sight. He would get up in an instant and not leave the bathroom for the next three hours. Realising this, I decided it best to get my shower in before the room became out of bounds.

I let the water wash away my tiredness and soak my hair. I applied the shampoo and conditioner in record time, not wanting to waste the hot water, and rinsed myself quickly with soap. I wrapped my towel around my waist and brushed my teeth. It was midday, but I hadn't had the chance to brush them this morning and I was too drained to care.

Laf had woken up, most likely at the sound of the pipes heating up, and was scrolling through Instagram. He looked up to see me with his deep, brown eyes.

"Welcome home, mon ami. How was the Christening?" He asked me.

"It was okay, yeah. The baby's kinda cute. Looks like my brother." I shrugged.

"Yeah, the pictures I saw were adorable. It's not fair, you have such good genes in that family."

"I mean, have you seen yourself?" I grinned mischievously, remembering his hair, "seriously, look."

I held up my phone camera for him to see and he squealed, "oh mon Dieu! What happened to my beautiful poof?"

I was right, he rushed up and shut the bathroom door. I could only hear the muttering of French curses and the spray of hair product for the next few hours. I took the opportunity to change into my beloved sweats and make the long awaited coffee I had been so looking forward to drinking.

I couldn't stop thinking about him, _John_. _John, John, John._ I closed my eyes where I was lying in Laf's place and all I could see was his face. His dimples that made an appearance whenever he laughed or smiled were enough to make me grow hard in my sweatpants. I grinned to myself at the situation and moved for my bedroom. I could at least have a little bit of human decency, though God knows Laf had walked in and seen more than he should have done when I was in the company of some random from the club. Sure, not my finest moment, but hey, it was going great till my best friend crashed the party.

I flopped onto my bed and took in the scent of lavender. Laf must have washed and changed the sheets while I was away. I didn't bother turning the lights on and left the curtains shut. I lay in the dark thinking about him, about what he was like, about his hair, about his tan skin, about what it felt like. I palmed myself through the thin fabric of my sweatpants, focusing on what my hands were doing and melting into the sensations. I imagined his own hands in their place.

His stunning eyes were painted in the darkness. I could remember every detail vividly and longed to see him again.

I opened my eyes. _You're being ridiculous, Alex, you just met the guy. 'Longed', pathetic._ I cast the thoughts aside and concentrated hard. Concentrated on his lips, his hair. I wanted to know what he tasted like, I wanted to know how his hair felt when I pulled my hand through it. I moved the cotton out of the way to stroke myself properly.

I let my head fall back onto the headboard as I felt myself. The fantasy I had created for myself clouded all of my previous worries and it became a storm of pleasure, taking me nearer and nearer to the edge. I pictured his body in its purest form. He seemed strong, fit. He undoubtedly worked out. God, I would have liked to see that. I wondered if he had abs? I bet he had abs. I imagined feeling him, him feeling me. He was close to me, and I to him. I imagined his muscles tightening and twitching under my touch, that I held him in my hands instead of my own pathetic body. I let myself release. I wish it was on those abs. I wished I was with him.

He seemed so… kind. I felt guilty about what I had done, feeling as though I had somehow lessened his worth by giving into my own dark temptations. The way he looked at me on the plane, full of concern. No one had looked at _me_ in that way since I was a child scrounging for food, crying on the streets after she died, staring into the abyss of my own subconscious in the hope of finding the answers.

Still. That's the past. I was over it. Sure, it bothered me from time to time, but those days were over. I had so much to be grateful for, why did I still want more?

I heard Laf exit the bathroom finally and slip into his room next to mine. I took the chance to sneak into the bathroom to clean myself up. I was an animal, but I had some dignity left. I dampened a washcloth and wiped myself clean, taking a glance in the mirror to see a man I barely recognised. I couldn't tell if the change was good or bad. I had done so well for myself in comparison to my old life, but I could do so much more. I was adamant that I wasn't going to waste my time. The book I had started over two years ago still remained incomplete, I wanted to finish it so badly yet whenever I sat down to have another go at it I would sit for hours having written no more than a sentence, often less.

Retying my hair into its standard knot, I rinsed my face again and grabbed a snackbar. I opened my phone and swiped through the pictures of my newly christened nephew. He certainly shared the family's traits. I was so happy for my brother who had found happiness at last, his wife was kind. They loved each other deeply, I could see it in the way they looked at each other. I wanted that. Not just stolen glances at the club after drinking one too many, I wanted to have a commitment to somebody almost as much as I detested the idea. I shook the thoughts once more and threw my phone to side, opening up my work diary.

 _Wednesday: Back at school. Plan lessons._

I rolled my eyes. Everything goes to Hell on Wednesdays. Three days. I was annoyed, but I was happy. I enjoyed teaching. I loved the kids. They were so bright, I could see their potential. What I really hated was the long hours of marking and planning that would undoubtedly take over my entire life for the next school year. I looked forward to meeting my class, however. Wednesday would be simple, a day of introductions, a chance to get to know each other and get an idea of where to go from there.

I picked up a notebook from under the coffee table and began to jot down some ideas for what activities we could do. A simple task of standing up and giving three facts about themselves would be nice. Maybe they could get a head start on their biography skills and write a short paragraph about themselves. _But that would take so long to mark._ But it's an opportunity to better understand my class.

My internal debate was interrupted by the buzz of my phone on the sofa. A text lit up the screen from an unknown number.

 **Hey. I hope this isn't a fake number, it's the guy from the plane.**

I laughed to myself. _He actually texted me._ I was smiling like a teenager did when they had a crush. I sent him a text of confirmation back.

 **Nope, no fake number here. It's the other guy from the plane ;)**

Taking my phone off of silent mode so I knew when… _if…_ he texted back, I made myself another coffee. It reminded me of our partly assembled plan to go to the new café together. I went over what had happened that day again and scoffed at the ridiculousness of it. We had met briefly and in only a few hours had arranged to meet up again. I had been so confident, a look that I didn't think suited me. But, he was so… charming. Enchanting. Bewitching. How could he have invaded my mind already?

A text.

 **Yay! Thought you'd played me for a minute. I still want that coffee.**

 **If you still want to I'm free tomorrow?** I replied.

 _What had gotten into me?_ I silently scolded myself for being so forward, praying he took it well. I took a sip of my hot coffee and it burnt my throat. I could feel it travelling through my body, heating it up. I loved that feeling, even if my lips had to pay the price. They'd seen worse days.

Three dots lit up my screen. I hated those dots.

 **I can do 3pm? If that works for you. We can meet at the bodega and go from there?**

 **Meet you there ;)**

I put down my phone as Laf came to see me.

"Ew, you're smiling. What happened?" he asked.

"I think… I think I just got myself a date, old man." I grinned.

"I'm not old. You're older than me. Anyway, you have fun with that, I have a date now, see you later. Bye!" he waved.

"Bye."


	2. Chapter 2

I dragged a brush through my hair and winced as it caught in tangles that had formed overnight. I splashed my face with water and grabbed myself breakfast. I stood next to the hob waiting for the eggs to turn white, ready to flip them. They hissed and spat at me when they made contact with the hot frying pan. I heard the key twist in the door and smirked, Laf didn't come home from his date yesterday which meant only one thing. He traipsed to the bathroom wearing the same clothes as when he left, only more wrinkled and creased.

"I take it the date went well?" I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

He rolled his eyes, "it did. I'm so tired, I didn't mean to sleep there, not that we did."

"Okay… do you want some breakfast?"

"Yes, please. My saviour."

I flipped the eggs - originally intended for me - and waited for a moment before putting them on a plate with toast. I left the plate on the breakfast bar ready for Laf's return and added two more eggs to the pan for myself. They sizzled and popped almost immediately, taking far less time to cook through. I risked leaving them for a moment longer to toast some bread and grab an extra plate. I timed it well enough to not have the eggs burn and served my own breakfast.

Lafayette sat beside me at the breakfast bar and began to eat the food, "merci, mon ami."

He paused after every bite to type or scroll on his phone whereas I ate in a trance, deep in thought. Three p.m. I had a fair few hours to get some things done. I could clean the apartment. I could read. I could plan lessons. I could… write some more of the book? I almost laughed aloud at the idea. It had been weeks, bordering months since I had sat in front of my laptop to get something written. I hadn't even done so much as put a pen to the paper. Nothing. No progress.

I finished the eggs and took our plates to the sink, washing them both along with the other pots and pans.

"Any plans for the day?" I asked.

"Ugh, I have three clients today. I don't have the energy for them. It's the lazy ones who don't really want to work out but also want celebrity bodies. Still, I suppose I get to shout at them."

I glared at him, "constructive criticism only. And motivation, too. You know what it's like to not like your body, Laf, help them embrace the person they want to be."

He groaned, "I hate it when you're right."

"You must hate me a lot," I smirked, getting his bottle of water from the fridge.

He thanked me and showered quickly, packed his gym bag and set off out again. I had the apartment to myself. Where would I start?

I began to scrub the breakfast bar clean of toast crumbs absentmindedly, hoping that I would be able to figure out what to do next if I started to do something. Anything.

 _Buzz._

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and I unlocked it to see two texts from John. One from earlier on and the other from just now.

 **Morning! We still on for today?**

 **Sorry, can we change the time to half three? A work thing came up.**

I shot one back quickly.

 **Sure, no problem.**

 _Buzz._

 **Sweet. See you then.**

I felt my inner curiosity beginning to consume all of my other thoughts. What was his job? What did he do everyday? What came up at work? I had more time than I knew what to do with. I vacuumed the apartment as more questions came to mind. I fell down the rabbit hole of my imagination and began to answer some of my own questions.

I picked up the notebooks left lying on the coffee table and accidentally dropped several pages. My earlier drafts. Looking at them on the floor, scattered, I saw a new angle. I had gone wrong somewhere, where? The plot had something missing, so blatantly obvious, right in front of my nose and I couldn't see it. Maybe I needed to start again. I had so many ideas that it was hard to keep track.

I turned instead to the giant whiteboard hanging on the wall after abandoning the fallen sheets on the table. In different coloured writing, different ideas littered the surface of the board. Whenever I had an idea, the tiniest glimmer of inspiration, I would write it down on this board. And if I ran out of room, I would add sticky notes. Over the few years, the giant whiteboard had extended to the entire wall used to contain what could not be contained in my head.

I sat in the chair opposite the wall and stared at it, searching. In the past I had drawn lines connecting ideas, but looking from here I could see something was missing. I frowned in frustration and lit a few cinnamon scented candles around the room, trying to recreate some of my preferred thinking conditions. I paced in front of the wall as if it was under suspicion of a serious crime. I pondered over what I had so far. I began to hate the foundations of my story, the time since starting changing the way I saw the world. As I changed and developed, so did my creativity. It wasn't enough for me anymore, and if I wasn't writing for me, who was I writing for?

I checked my watch again for the fifth time in ten minutes. I could probably set off soon. I found my trainers and put on a simple jacket, too frustrated by my inability to form a secure plot to worry about the standard of my attire. I walked in the heat of the city to the corner bodega - as we had discussed - and waited. I was too early. The owner of the shop came out to change a few of the signs and greeted me. He told me about how his family were getting on and asked about my book, to which I responded with the standard reply, "I know I'm gonna get super inspired, any day now, I can feel it." Perhaps if I said it often enough, I would begin to believe it was true.

I felt a light tap on my shoulder as I inspected a few of the plant pots lined up on the sidewalk. John stood before me in casual clothing. Skinny jeans, t-shirt, trainers. His hair was half tied back, leaving a poof of curly hair to wrap around his face, shaping it.

"Sorry, it had to be so late, work was Hell. Shall we?" he apologised.

I smiled reassuringly, "sure thing, les'go."

We walked together, him leading the way slightly.

"It's just around the block, not too far."

"Nice, I _really_ need coffee."

"God, me, too. I'm sort of like the manager at work and apparently nobody can cope ten minutes without me," he laughed.

"What do you do?" I asked.

He hesitated for a moment, "oh, loads. I have a lot of jobs. I'm mainly a mental health doctor slash psychiatric doctor , but I'm sort of the head of my ward, so I essentially do everyone's job for them whilst they gossip. But, I'm also a part-time therapist, I've got bits on the side, too. So, scared yet?"

"Not in the slightest. I think that's so awesome."

We turned the corner and he held the door to the café open for me. We sat at the table and ordered our drinks, he payed. I got a simple black; he got a latte.

"So, go on then, most people run and scream when I tell them about what I do, that means yours is worse. What do you do?"

"Me? Uh, I'm a teacher at the local elementary. So, I've got fifth grade," I started. I didn't want to tell him about the book just yet. Maybe if we saw each other again.

"Nice, so you don't go back till… Wednesday? I think?"

"Yup. I'm free till then. Then it's back to marking till I can't feel my hand," I joked, "no, I love it really. The kids are usually great."

He sipped at his coffee and winced, "way way too hot. You'd think I'd learn."

"Where's the fun in that?" I drank from my own, making the same mistake, "nope, you're right, ouch."

We laughed together. He had a cute laugh. His whole face laughed, not just his smile. He lit up. His eyes shone, wrinkled in the corners, dimples on both sides of his grin. It was contagious.

His phone started to ring and he mouthed 'sorry'.

He accepted the call, "hey… are you home? Good… where's your mama? Oh, right, okay… um, I'm gonna be a bit late today… be good for auntie Angie. Okay, ba-bye… we'll talk about it later, bye… bye," he hung up and turned to me, "sorry. Just home stuff."

He's married? He's got a kid? He's got a family? He's taken?

I bit my tongue, "it's cool."

"Where were we?"

"You were scolding yourself with coffee, I believe."

I cleared my mind of my suspicions. He wouldn't have asked me to the café if he was with someone, right? He seemed too nice to do that… right?

"So, Alex. What does your day look like? Tell me about yourself."

"Uh, I get up, I feed my roommate, I clean, I work, I shower, I repeat."

He smirked, "is sleeping not in there somewhere?"

"Sleep is a waste of time, and near damn impossible when you have the roommate I do. Let's just say that he likes to bring friends home," I scoffed.

"I dread to think. I haven't had that problem since I was seventeen back home."

I laughed, my brother was like that. I was still surprised that one of the people he brought back decided to marry him, "siblings?"

"Oh yes, four of them. Two sisters and two brothers, the sisters weren't a problem. I should think not as well, I think I scared any of the boys that came near them away. More the oldest sister, little one's only just sixteen. Speaking of, I need to go see them soon, it's been a while," he mused.

His phone started to ring again and he rolled his eyes, "yes? Wait… what? Who's asking for me? … Are you kidding me? Seriously, I leave you for half an hour and everything's gone to Hell already… sorry, yeah, I know, it's not your fault… just, I'll see what I can do," he rubbed temples in thought, "give him an Ativan injection for now… make him comfortable… of course he doesn't trust you, he's scared… Don't be… threatening... You know what I mean, just... cut the whole medical talk, it freaks people out more… act like a human being… okay? Yeah, see you soon… bye."

"Everything okay?" I asked. It was a stupid question.

"No, I have to go back to work. Is that okay? Sorry, I really wanted to see you," he sighed.

"It's not a problem, I get it. Besides, this won't be the last time I see you. We can go out another time."

His face lit up again, "really?"

"Of course, I want to see you again."

"Well, text me," he smiled but it was immediately wiped from his face by the sound of his phone for a third time, "sorry, Alex, text me, or I'll text you. See you later."

"See you later."

He answered the phone as he walked to the door, "yes? I know, I know, I'm on my way. She already called me… just do what I said and wait for me to get there..."

I finished my coffee and left for my apartment, my brain worked at such a speed it was hard to keep up. Question after question invaded my mind and I grew annoyed at my inability to answer them. I shut the door behind me and returned to my seat in front of the wall. I wanted to start again. A blank canvas, a fresh sheet. I went to my office, the spare room with a desk and a couple bookshelves, and pulled out a spare box. Conscious of the fact that I could change my mind, I took a picture of the wall and started to take down the sticky notes and wipe the whiteboard clean. I placed everything in the box and took it to my office.

I paced the apartment, backwards and forwards. When nothing came to mind, I switched on the radio and made myself another coffee. An old Spanish song came on that I recognised and hummed along to.

"All I need is a half decent plot, come on, Alex, come on. Think," I muttered to myself.

I stood out on the fire escape with my coffee and watched the street, waiting for something to happen. Anything. I needed an idea.

"I need characters. Good characters."

I saw kids riding their bikes in the street, having fun. They shouted at each other to get one another's attention. They were racing. I went back inside and flopped onto the sofa. A moment later, Laf bounced into the room, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Whoa, what happened to the wall?"

"I didn't like what I had, I'm starting again," I grumbled.

"Someone's grouchy, date not go well?"

"No, no, it did. I mean, he had to leave early for work, but it didn't go bad. I just, this book is pissing me off. Why did I choose to start one? I'm an idiot. Maybe I should just… not."

Laf crouched down to me where I lay, "you're not an idiot, you're just blocked. It'll come to you, you know it will. You just have to be patient, mon ami."

"How was work? You're in a better mood, what happened?"

"It went better than expected. I have a new client," he smiled.

I rolled my eyes, "Laf, you just went on a date. Another one, really?"

"Alex, this one, I swear…" he started.

I mocked in a terrible French accent what he was going to say next, having heard this line more times than I could count, "... this one is different, mon ami," it was his turn to roll his eyes, "but Laf, you know that's…"

"That's what you said last time. It's time to get serious," he mocked me, "but then again, where's the fun in that?"

"Just don't go breaking your heart. Don't catch feelings you don't intend to keep."

"I won't. I promise."

He left me to shower again. I heard him singing something though I couldn't figure out what it was. I started to cook dinner. Spaghetti Bolognese was the best I could do with the ingredients in the apartment. I browned the mince and tapped my foot along to the music. It was one of the annoying songs that got stuck in your head and you unwillingly learnt the lyrics. I added the sauce and let it simmer whilst I started on the spaghetti. Laf emerged from the bathroom with a clean hoodie and wet hair, "oh, thanks. You didn't have to cook, I would have…"

"Don't sweat it, it helps me think. Spaghetti's okay, right?"

He nodded, "of course, it's my favourite."

"I thought croque monsieur was your favourite?"

"I have a lot of favourites."

I shrugged, "fair enough, can you watch the pasta while I get changed?"

"Sure."

I found a pair of sweatpants and an old hoodie to throw on. I tied my hair back and went back to check on the spaghetti. It was ready. I dished out two servings and put the leftover sauce into tupperware boxes on the counter to cool. They could go in the freezer. I grated some cheese on top of the food, extra for Laf knowing how much he loved the food.

We sat on the sofa together and watched a movie.

"How can you cook so well? It's annoying, I'm French, why can't I?"

"Because I practise. You would just rather order pizza even though you're a personal trainer and should know it's not good for you."

He frowned, "but pizza is so good."

"I'll make you homemade pizza if it makes you happy," I laughed.

"Yes! It would make me happy, very happy."

"If you get some yeast and tomato puree tomorrow on your way home from work, I promise I will make you pizza. Deal?"

"Deal. You are too good to me."

I grinned, "I know."

I took the finished dishes to the sink and washed them as Laf told me about the girl he met at work, "she's way out of my league."

"Oh, Laf. It's okay, the sun will always rise and dogs will always be happy to see you," I teased.

"I know you're trying to make fun of me, but the joke's on you because that fact fills me with happiness. So, ha."

"You'll always be my favourite Frenchman."

He dried the dishes after I washed them, "I mean, you don't understand, it's like, she's just… and I'm…"

"Hey, no, we've talked about this, none of that. You are you. Just be yourself. Let people see the real, imperfect, flawed, quirky, weird, beautiful, magical person that you are. If she doesn't like that then she's not worth your time."

"How are you not married with twenty thousand kids and the entire population in love with you when you say things like that? Look, I'm all smiley and gross now, stop. You're making me feel good about myself."

"That's kind of the point, doofus," I smiled, happy to see my friend wasn't feeling so down.

"What about you then?"

"Me?"

He nodded, "yeah, are you catching feeling? Because you seemed like it last night."

"I don't know, I only met the dude yesterday. I don't even know him, but he's got so much good in him. But…"

"But?"

"But," I thought about the phone call, about the background on his phone, "nothing. You know what I'm like. I overthink things."

"That's what I worry about, mon ami."

I scoffed, "you can talk."

"Mhm, true. That's a good point. Well, I'm going to bed, I'll be up early for work so I might not be here when you wake up," he paused, "well, depending on if you actually sleep tonight."

"I'll sleep when I drop."

He muttered something under his breath as he walked away and mumbled his goodnight farewells.

I lit the candles again and started to jot down a few notes on the whiteboard, just words I had heard around the city that I could use. Quotes. Snippets of life in New York.

 _Buzz._

 **Sorry about today. My staff are helpless.**

I responded after a few moments. I didn't want to seem too desperate.

 **Don't worry about it. If anything your commitment to your job is sweet, you're a good person. I can see that already.**

Not the smoothest thing in the world, Alex.

 **Same place tomorrow? Meet at the café?** He asked.

 **Sure, whatever time works for you.**

 **I'm not supposed to be working tomorrow, you pick.**

 **12pm?**

 **It's a date.**

It's a date. _It's a date._ It sounds so much better when he says it. For a moment, I forgot all of my other doubts. Tomorrow at twelve. I couldn't wait.


	3. Chapter 3

Walking down the street to the café, I saw parents dragging their kids into shops, shopping for their back to school things. How could they look so upset? The Back to School shop was the highlight of the whole process. New books, fresh pens, ridiculous pencil cases. What was not to like? I would've done anything for those things when I was their age. I passed an ice cream truck selling cold treats to the children who hadn't screamed throughout the whole shopping trip. They looked a lot happier than the others.

I resisted the urge to buy an ice cream, the temptation nearly succeeding. I carried on down the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding being hit with the water balloons as I passed through what was apparently the water balloon danger zone. An older teenager, dressed in a white tank top with the dominican flag printed on it, and black shorts, came up to me and apologised for almost hitting me. I shook my head, told him it was okay, I was glad to see they were having fun. He ran off to his friends who playfully shoved him and continued their water balloon fight.

I reached the café early and found a seat in the corner. I ordered two lattés, mine with extra cinnamon, and pulled out my phone. I scrolled through Pinterest absentmindedly, occasionally saving funny pins and writing prompts. His name lit up my screen. I answered the call.

"Hello?" I said.

"Yeah, hi. I'm on my way, I'll be five minutes. Just had to sort some things."

"Oh okay, no worries. I got you a latté, that okay?" I asked, watching the cream melt away on top of his drink. It would be gone by the time he got here.

"You didn't have to do that, I would have got it. It's fine though, thanks. I'll pay you back."

I shook my head despite him not being able to see me do so, "no, you paid last time, my turn."

He paused, "touché. Okay, see you soon."

"Later."

I continued to scroll. By this point I had found myself swiping through Harry Potter fan theories instead of the original prompts I was looking for. I turned off my phone and nursed my latté, adding more cinnamon. It had cooled down considerably and tasted sweet. Exactly the opposite to what I was used to drinking. It was a nice change. I took off my green jacket, the heat in the city creeping up as the summer dragged on. Too damn much like home.

The bell above the door rang as he walked in, taking the seat opposite me. His curls hung loose around his shoulders; he sported a black t-shirt and dark grey joggers. He looked good, but an unwise choice in the heat. He groaned to himself, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"Why would I wear all black?"

"Hello to you, too," I grinned.

"Sorry, yeah, hi. I'm here, I made it."

He looked down at the coffee cup and I nodded, silently telling him it was his.

"Thanks," he sipped from the cup, "just how I like it. Light and sweet."

I drank from my own, downing the rest of it, knowing that I would forget about it if I didn't finish it now. His shirt stuck to his skin with sweat, his hair glued to his face.

"Do you wanna go somewhere cooler?" I asked, noticing his discomfort.

He pondered it for a moment, staring at his coffee cup, "if you don't mind… where to?"

I thought about it, too. The only places I could think of off the top of my head that we could go to at this time in the day were my place and the bodega. I got the feeling that the owner might not appreciate two grown men hanging around near his store at midday.

"We could go to my place? We've got air conditioning and a fridge," I suggested, though suddenly conscious of what state I had left my apartment in.

He nodded, "sure, sounds good. We can do that. Lead the way."

He finished the cup and followed after me.

"Don't forget your jacket," he said, holding up the green material.

"Oh, thanks."

I led him down past the bodega, the quickest route, and past the kids. He stopped and grabbed my arm, turning me round. He nodded towards a park area where a little girl sat, crying, on a swing.

"She's upset," he whispered, sympathy seeping through his voice.

I looked, too. The little girl gripped the chains as the swing remained motionless aside from the occasional push with her foot. I turned to him, " yeah. Do you think she's okay? I mean, kids cry for attention, but…"

He shook his head, "nah, when kids cry for attention they make a noise… they kick, scream, shout. Y'know? She isn't doing that. She isn't making a single sound… she's crying silently."

"What's the difference?" I asked, though hearing it out loud, I sounded ignorant.

"I mean, children cry 'cause they want attention, sure, 'cause they're hurt… or, or they're afraid. When they cry silently… it's because they just can't stop. Any parent knows that."

"Are you a parent?"

He stared at me for a moment, his eyes wandering over my features. He turned back towards the little girl on the swing who was pawing at her eyes with her sleeve.

"There's hundreds of parents walking past this area and not one of them is asking what's wrong… so they already know. Everybody knows everybody 'round here… and, I think, I might know her. Come on."

He crossed the grass to get to the play area and bent down beside the swing. She started at first but settled when she saw him.

"Mr. Laurens?" she asked, wiping the tears away again.

"Hey, Theo. Are you okay, sweetie? What's wrong?"

She hiccupped and sniffed, "it's my mama, she's sick, Mr. Laurens."

"I know, love. Do you want me to call your dad? He'll be worried about you."

Fresh tears ran down her face, dripping from her chin to the ground. He thumbed them away for her and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug where she finally willed herself to cry. He rubbed circles on her back.

"I'll call your daddy real quick," he smiled at her, "come on, you've been so brave, keep your chin up, for your mama."

He dialled the number of the contact 'Aaron Burr' and waited for it to ring. He cleared his throat, "yeah, hi, Burr? Nah, it's about Theo… yeah, she's here… I just found her on the swing and she was a little bit upset about her mama… do you want me to bring her or… okay, yeah, I'll stay with her… okay, see you in a couple of minutes."

He patted her on the shoulder, "okay, sweetie. Your daddy is gonna come and pick you up soon, you just gotta wait here with us for a bit first."

She nodded and gripped John tighter, "where's Pip?"

"Uh, he's at home. But you'll see him when you go back to school, that'll be fun right?"

"Uh huh. I like Pip. He's like you, but smaller."

He smiled at her. We waited and I occupied the spare swing. A tall man approached John and the little girl ran into his arms; he picked her up.

"Daddy!"

"My baby! Don't run away from me like that, I was so worried. Your mama, too."

She pushed her head into his chest, "mama's sick."

"I know, baby. But she wants you to be brave doesn't she? Should we go see her later?"

"Yeah," she wiped her nose on her sleeve.

The man put her down and thanked John for calling him, he took the little girl's hand and they walked away together.

John stood up straight and blew out a breath, "poor kid."

"Who was she?" I asked.

"Theodosia. Her mom's sick and it isn't looking like she's gonna get better… she's such a sweet kid, too. And her mom… such a nice woman, she doesn't deserve this."

I showed him back to my building and watched him climb up the flights of stairs. More sweat dripped down his face from the heat, staining his shirt. It clung to his skin, shaping his figure. He did have muscles.

"Sorry, just one more floor."

He laughed, "nah, this is nothing. So, so many stairs at work. And yesterday, oh boy, I had to run up a lot."

"Oh, yeah. Was everything okay?"

"It was pretty bad. A new patient had an episode, only came in a few weeks ago. I can't really say that much about it, but, y'know, they probably did need me… but still. My shift had finished, you'd think they'd do what they're trained to do without calling me for help."

I nodded in agreement and walked up to my door, unlocking it and calling out for Laf. He didn't respond. He was still at work. I turned on the air conditioning and switched on a few fans we had dotted around the room.

"So… what now? I didn't really think this far ahead," he chuckled, standing next to one of the fans.

I shrugged, "I dunno… we've got food, T.V., drinks…"

"What can we watch?" he asked, stepping away from the fan and closer to me.

"Whatever's on Netflix."

He thought about it for a moment, "yeah, alright. We can watch a bit of Netflix. I'm free till six-ish."

"Sweet, take your pick."

I passed him the remote and busied myself in the kitchen, pulling out snacks and cold drinks. I brought a bowl of popcorn and left it on the coffee table, sitting myself down beside him. He bit at his lip as he scrolled through the options.

"You've got quite the variety of recommendations," he side-eyed me.

"Oh, yeah. French roommate. He likes musicals and fashion shows, like RuPaul and all that kinda stuff. I like the dramas and the sci-fi and the documentaries. Netflix gets confused."

He nodded and turned to me, "you pick. Choosing things isn't my strong point."

"What kinda stuff do you like?"

"Uh, probably the dramas and sci-fi, too. Historical dramas are the best."

"Yes! Someone who gets it. Okay, what about… this? The Crown, it's all I've heard about and I gotta know what it's about."

He lit up, "me, too, I've seen the first twenty minutes, but I gotta know more."

I smiled and pressed play, happy that my idea had been a good one. The opening title telling us that it was a Netflix Original blasted out of the surround sound speakers and I winced, grabbing the remote and turning it down quickly.

"Jesus, that's loud," I laughed.

"I mean, the tiniest bit."

We continued to watch, grabbing the occasional popcorn as the episode continued. He had moved closer to me in the hour, though he kept fidgeting with his shirt.

"Do you wanna change? I have a couple spare shirts that will probably fit you," I suggested.

"If you're offering, please? Black shirt in the height of summer really wasn't my best decision."

I went to my wardrobe and pulled out a white t-shirt that Laf had bought me but I had never worn. I took it off of the coathanger and gave it to him. He smiled and took his shirt off. Wasn't expecting that… His chest was tanned and littered with freckles like his face, and… yup… definitely had abs. I could feel myself blushing, but I didn't care. He blew his hair out of his face and stared at me for a moment, "what?"

"Nothing," my mouth twisted upwards involuntarily, "you are just a… hmm… an attractive human being? Okay, I'm gonna go die of embarrassment now."

He laughed, pulling the shirt over himself. I internally sighed. He brushed his hair up from the roots with his hands and pulled it into a ponytail, securing it with a tie from around his wrist. He had a lot of hair ties on his wrist

"Thank you? You're not so bad yourself, Hamilton," he winked at me, I felt my face grow hotter, "but unfortunately for me, you were smart enough to not wear black, so you get to keep your shirt on."

I bit my lip slightly harder than intended and grinned. He was flirting back, it wasn't one-sided. He drank from his can and sat back down on the sofa. I sat closer to him than before and pressed play on the remote. He leaned into my side, subtly, but I noticed. I always noticed. The musky smell ascending from his body reached me and made my mind go wild. It wasn't the only part of me going wild…

I shifted in my seat and rested my arm on the back of the sofa behind him.

"Was that an attempt to be smooth?" he giggled.

"Possibly?"

"I'm not saying it didn't work."

We were multiple episodes into the series. His hair bounced and tickled my arm when he moved his head. I sat, staring at him, completely lost in his beauty. The way his nose wrinkled when he laughed or smiled when watching the screen, the way his eyes flashed with fury when the characters did something stupid.

"Yo, did you see that? Philip be a fucking player!"

I stared at him, speechless, "uh… no… no… I was distracted."

"Huh?"

I shifted again and looked away for a moment, "I mean, I was watching, but just then I got… I was distracted… and, I'm so confused… and I… uh… sorry."

"Alex…" he started, then he huffed, "fuck it."

Before I could comprehend what he was happening, his lips were on mine. I didn't move, in shock. He pulled away shyly, "sorry."

I shook my head and stroked his cheek, pulling him back. Then I kissed him, apparently taking him by surprise, too. He moaned into my mouth and sat up straighter on the coach, getting as close to me as he could. I leaned back onto the sofa, allowing him to take the lead, letting him take charge. He used the opportunity to his advantage, pushing me further back with his hand and lightly biting at my lip, begging for entrance. I brought my hand up to his neck, opening my mouth to let him in. We kissed for a minute, maybe two. My bottom lip interlocking with his, it was sweet, and soft, and better than I could have imagined. He pulled away and I could feel his breath on my face, our noses still almost touching.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice hoarse and shaking.

"Huh?"

He let out a breath, turning his face away from mine, shutting his eyes as if scared to say the next thing, his body still hovered over mine, "you asked me before… if I was a parent… and, yeah. I am... I have a son. Is that okay?"

I sat up straighter, leaning on my elbow, "of course it's okay. Why wouldn't it be okay?"

"It's just that… I like you, Alex. And… when I like people, if the job doesn't scare them away then the kid does. It's a game changer, I get. I'd just rather have you tell me now before I get too deep into this."

I brushed a fallen strand of hair behind his ear from where it had escaped the hair tie, "it's not a game changer. I like you, too. A kid isn't going to change that. What's his name?"

"Philip. Philip-Sebastián."

"Sebastián?" I asked… I loved that name.

"Yeah, he's a complicated story. I'll tell you if you stick around."

"I'm sure I will... Sorry, one second."

I stood up and moved to the wall, picking up a whiteboard pen and writing 'Sebastián' on it. It had a ring to it, I liked it. That was it! I had a character. Who are you Sebastián?

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"It's a complicated story," I swivelled round and smirked, "I'll tell you if you stick around."

He furrowed his eyebrows but I sat back down on the sofa and kissed him, hard, on the lips. He giggled between breaths and gripped my shirt, pulling me towards him. His hands wandered down to my waist where he rubbed at the waistband of my jeans. I felt him growing hard against my leg, and I undoubtedly against his. I could taste the sweetness of the popcorn on his lips and the smell of musk, even stronger now, made me crazy. His skin was hot to the touch, both the weather and the moment being large factors to this. I pulled away for a moment and looked at him, my forehead pressed against his. He opened his eyes dreamily after a moment; his eyes were impossibly greener from this close up. I could hear the theme of the next episode playing, but it sounded muffled over the sound of our own breathing. I could feel his heart pounding through his chest. Or was it mine? I couldn't tell. All I knew was that I wanted more.

I trailed kisses along his jawline, listening for every gasp, smirking at every shift he made underneath me. I lapped at his neck with my tongue, nipping at the skin. He let out a shaky breath, pulling at my hair with one hand, the other smoothing the shirt on my back and slipping underneath it. I chuckled against him, nipping harder. He flipped us on the sofa so that he was on top of me again. I stared in shock of how easy it was for him to manoeuvre me.

"What?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

"How can you just… do that? I'm not complaining… but damn. That was hot."

He tugged at my shirt and pulled it over my head, exposing my chest, freshly tanned from the last trip. He sucked at my collar bone, hard enough to leave marks. I moaned at the contact, letting my head fall back onto the arm of the sofa. I patted him on the arm and gestured to my bedroom door.

"This sofa is super uncomfortable, and I have a super comfy mattress," I suggested, testing the waters, guessing his intentions.

"I do like comfy mattresses," he lifted himself off of me and let me guide him to my room.

He pushed me against the bed, taking his shirt off and returning to his assault on my collarbone, gradually moving further south till he reached my waistband. He tugged at it suggestively, looking up at me for reassurance. I nodded, barely able to speak from the excitement growing in me. He unzipped my jeans and slid them off, discarding them on the floor. The release of pressure made me groan in relief and he ran his hands back up the sides of my body; he climbed onto the bed, hovering above me and interlocking his lips with mine. I trailed my fingers on his back, tracing the top of his joggers. He pressed his chest against mine, the contact of his skin on mine made my skin tingle. He slid down on the bed still on top of me and removed my boxers. My dick came free, I shuddered under his gaze as he looked me up and down, taking me in. I was vulnerable in front of him, open, under his control, his spell, his charm. He knelt on the bed before me and stroked my chest, trailing down to my stomach, down to my shaft. He took me in hand, like I had imagined him doing. Slowly, he moved his hand in up and down movements, painfully slowly. I restrained my hips from bucking up as my breath hitched in my throat. He kept pumping as he moved to kiss me.

"Is this okay?" he asked me.

"Fuck… yes. Definitely yes."

His pace sped up as he moved down my body, pausing only to tease the skin with his lips. I was putty in his hands, in that moment I was his, willing to let him do whatever he wanted. He licked my dick, rubbing circles on the inside of my thigh with his thumb. My back arched and my head fell against the soft pillows. I gripped the sheets when his tongue swirled on the tip, wet and sloppy. I pulled his hair free from the ponytail and felt it splatter over my hips in all different directions as he ducked down.

I shut my eye as he worked, resisting the urge to rock my hips. He was so good. Felt so good. He held my hips as he bobbed his head up and down, his cheeks a vacuum surrounding me. I cried out and my breath caught at the back of my throat, releasing in a low whimper. I moaned his name as I came in a wave of pleasure, gripping harder on the sheets.

He swallowed it all and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, leaning back up to kiss me.

"Hi," he whispered in my ear, sucking my neck.

"How are you so damn good at that?"

"It's a gift," he shrugged, falling onto my chest.

"Do you want me to return the favour?" I suggested.

He held up his wrist where amongst the hair ties sat a watch. He let out an exasperated huff, "tempting… But I have to go. Sorry, call me later?"

I drew circles on his back with my finger, "okay. Well, next time, I owe you. Tell me when you're home so I know you've not been murdered or anything."

He nodded and blew onto my skin, making no effort to move. He sighed, "right, okay, I'm going now."

"Doesn't look like it," I chuckled.

"Well, I am. It's just that you have a super warm, hot body and it's super comfy. But, I am going now, watch… leaving."

He hovered above me and kissed me once more, breaking apart to find the shirt I had lent him. I pulled on a spare pair of sweatpants and waited for him to get ready. He patted himself down, looking for his keys and his phone. When his search resulted in empty pockets, he looked on the floor and found the items under my jeans. The phone had a large crack down the middle from where it had fallen on the floor.

"Well, that's unfortunate," he screwed his face up.

I walked him to the door and kissed him goodbye. It lasted longer than intended but I wasn't complaining. We finally broke apart and he left with his other shirt in his hand. I slumped back down on the sofa and took a glance at my wall with the added name. It was a beautiful name.

The cushions smelled like him, musky with the added scent of coffee, or was that me? Either way, when they mixed it created the perfect aroma.

Laf came home not long after, dripping with sweat once again. He didn't ask why I didn't have my shirt on, he just went straight for the shower. It was probably for the best. My phone began to ring and I answered quickly. Eager.

"Hello?" I said.

John responded, he sounded tired, "hey… I didn't die… not even once."

"Phew, that wouldn't have been great."

"Nah, it would be a pretty shit way to end a great day," he laughed, "I did have a good time today."

"Me, too."

We talked for a couple more minutes before Laf emerged from his personal beauty salon. I shooed him away, pointing to the phone. He nodded with a smirk playing on his lips, he left me alone.

"I'm gonna have to go 'Lex, things to do. But… are you free this weekend… no, wait… wait no, ignore me, I was right the first time. Let me start again, are you free this weekend?"

"I mean, unless I decide to be that cruel teacher that sets a bunch of homework that I'll have to mark, I should be. Why? What did you have in mind?"

"I know this little club in the city, would you be interested in… joining me. It's my weekend off from work and home life, I wanna see you... if you'll see me?"

"I'd love to!"

"Sweet. Well, good night. See you around."

"G'night," I whispered.

I rolled over on the sofa and shut my eyes, they felt heavy. I smiled to myself, smiled so hard that my cheeks hurt. In time, I fell asleep. I woke up in the early hours over the morning, a pillow under my head that I didn't remember being there before. It was dark outside. I still lay on the couch, curled into a ball. I grabbed a drink of water and went back into my room where I fell asleep again, much more comfortable this time. I was so happy.


	4. Chapter 4

I woke up bright and early on Wednesday morning. Too early. I had already packed my bag the night before. I opened up my phone to check my emails. Couple of ads, nothing more. I dressed in my button-down shirt and put on a blue tie. I looked smart… but not too smart. I fixed myself a cup of coffee and sat on the sofa with my school notebook on my lap, a pen in my mouth. I checked my plans for the day and double-checked my bag. I turned on the hob and cooked some eggs for myself and Laf who should have been up by now for an early training session. He emerged not long afterwards, drawn out by the smell of food.

"Here you go, sleeping beauty," I smiled.

"Thank you. And hey, good luck today with the new class, I want you to tell me about it, okay?"

"Of course."

I pulled out the notes page and leaned on the breakfast bar to make last minute adjustments. I scribbled out a few things and rewrote them. Lafayette scraped his plate and mine into the bin and washed them before he left with his gym bag over his shoulder. I called after him and chucked him his water bottle from the other end of the hall. He caught it, thanked me, and continued on his way down the stairs and out of the building. I straightened my tie in the mirror and pulled my hair back into a low ponytail. I looked neat, tidy, approachable. I poured the rest of my drink into a travel mug and pulled the straps of my school bag and laptop bag over my shoulder, locking the door behind me.

It was still hot outside and the tie was already choking me. I got the subway and walked to the school, my room being at the end of the corridor. It was cooler in the light-blue painted room than outside and I felt better. I sat my laptop on my desk and wrote my name on the board. It was so clean for once, they must have replaced them during the holidays. I smiled. It wouldn't stay like that for long.

I was way too early for the kids arriving so I opened up my documents on the rough outline of the book I had got done. It was more of an ideas page rather than actual writing. But at least I had ideas now. A notification popped up on my phone and I remembered that I needed to turn it off, the habit of not having to during the time off making me forget the rules. It was a message from John. I grinned.

Good luck today, Alex! See you at the weekend ;)

Thanks! Can't wait

It finally hit me how nervous I actually was. It wasn't like it was the first class I'd had in my time as a teacher. Why was I so nervous? Probably just excited. I wrote down a couple more ideas and clicked onto the school site for the register, leaving it open for when they arrived. I picked up a black whiteboard pen and wrote down what I had planned for the day, what was to be ideally completed by the end of it.

Seemed simple enough, right?

The clock on the wall, above the interactive board, ticked away. Second by second. Minute by minute. I heard the bell ring through the corridor and stood from my seat at the desk and waited by the door. One by one, the kids walked into the classroom and sat at the desks dotted around the room. I'd rearranged them so that it was like a horseshoe, a space in the middle so they could all see me and I could walk around easily. A few smiled at me as they walked past, others with vacant expressions on their faces, clearly not happy about having to wake up early again.

When everyone had come in, I stood at the front and greeted them all.

"Hey, welcome back, you guys. My name is Mr. Hamilton, but you can just call me sir if you want. Today's gonna be easy, I know you don't want to be back… but that doesn't mean you're all gonna get to slack off all year, hard work is rewarded and the same goes that bad behaviour isn't overlooked. Got that? … good. Okay… I promise I'm not that horrible teacher that is just… super mean and stuff. I'm nice if you're nice, that's the deal."

I delved into the lesson, starting with registration.

"Sorry if I forget your names and faces, I don't know who you all are yet so bare with me, I'll get it eventually. It's 'yes, sir' and a little wave for me so I know who's who when I call your name, please."

I called out there names with ease and looked around the room as they all smiled and waved. Most smiled and waved. Good, I think I can remember their names. Probably. Hopefully. Introductions will help.

"Okay, next up. Little introductions. Just stand up… or stay sat down if you want… and tell us two facts about yourselves. Who wants to go first?"

Nobody put their hands up. I didn't blame them in all honesty.

"That's cool, I'll go first. Okay, so: I can speak three languages fluently, so that comes in handy; I… hmm… I originally wanted to be the president when I was your age, crazy, I know, but know I get to teach you guys, which I think is way better. Okay, that's two. Boom… who's next?" I looked around at the class and landed my eyes on a boy at the back who had dark brown curls and wore a blue t-shirt, "at the back, Jake? I think? Wanna go next?"

He nodded and stood up, I liked his confidence, "hey, my name's Jake. Two facts about me: I'm from D.R. but I moved here when I was five; and I like playing soccer with my friends."

I clapped my hands, "boom, that's great, P.R myself, Jake. Okay, who else?"

A little girl to the right of the of Jake lifted up her hand hesitantly.

"Go on then… I want to say Jennifer?"

"It's Jessica, you- you were super close though."

"Ah, I apologise, Jessica. Okay, wanna tell us two things about yourself?"

She stayed sat in her seat but cleared her throat, her face growing slightly pink, "uh, my name's Jessica… I have four brothers and I, uh, I live in the Bronx, but I lived in Brooklyn..."

I clapped my hands again, "that's great! Well done for volunteering. Four brothers, huh? I've got just the one. And the Bronx? That's cool, okay, anyone else?"

Gradually more people began to volunteer before I had gotten all twenty-four responses from the class. Last thing before break, expectations.

"Just one last thing before break, expectations in class. I have no doubt that I don't need to tell you these and you're probably a super great class but I have to say them anyway…" I listed off a couple of the rules on the interactive board and clicked off of the slide, "now, last thing I promise. Something I believe that all of my students should ask themselves is: what do I aspire to be? It's an important question, we should always be asking it to ourselves. What do we want to achieve and how do we get there?"

Jake shouted out, "what do you aspire to be, sir?"

It caught me off guard, "me? I… uh, I guess that… I aspire to make a difference. I want to leave this world better off than when I found it. Create something that inspire the best in people."

"That's deep," the kid replied.

I chuckled, "I guess it is, yeah."

The bell rang and I dismissed the class. They ran out in groups, the little girl, Jessica, walking behind everyone. She turned to me and said, "I think that's an amazing thing to aspire to do."

I smiled at her, "thank you, yeah. It would be pretty cool, right?"

"I think you could do it."

"We can only hope."

She waved and walked out of the door; I shut it behind her. I set out new exercise books and a couple of pens and rulers in each place for their return. I put up the slide about biography and autobiography writing and sipped from my travel mug. It was just about warm, nowhere near as hot as I liked it, but warm nonetheless.

There was a knock on my door. I looked through the glass and saw a tall, muscled man stood at the other side. I opened it.

"Mulligan! Good to see you!" I patted him on the back, our usual greeting.

"Hamilton, I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."

I rolled my eyes, "that's because you haven't. Just sit on one of the desks, it's fine."

He sat on the table at the end of the horseshoe after moving the books and stationary out of the way, "so… how are the little devils?"

"They seem nice this year, actually. Why do you always say they're horrible, I never get the horrible classes, they're so good and talented?"

"You don't teach gym class… they're evil, I swear."

"They're kids, Herc. Leave them be. You just gotta show them that you aren't gonna take their crap but you're still a nice guy."

He blew out a long breath, "I have the younger ones now, we're doing circuits. Why didn't I go down the personal training path? Teaching kids isn't my thing."

"I think I have a friend who could help you with that if you wanted a sudden change in the career area."

"That would be… fantastic."

I checked the clock on the wall. Few more minutes.

"Come down at the end of the day if you remember and I'll try and arrange something."

He straightened the bandana around his head and smiled, "thank you."

"Anytime. Now go, you have circuits to build. The hula-hoops won't set up themselves."

He laughed as he walked back to the gym to prepare for his next lesson. I double-checked the slide presentation and moved the books and pens back in their place on the desks.

The kids filled the seats after the bell again and I stood in the middle of the room in the space I had left. They settled down when I cleared my throat and started to speak. I hoped that they'd stay this polite.

"That was good, coming in and getting focused. Good start. Okay, so, biographies. Can anybody tell me what a biography is?" I asked.

I young boy in a red shirt put his hand up.

"Yeah, Michael, was it?"

"Yeah."

"See? I'm getting better. Okay, go ahead, Michael. What is a biography? Big loud voice."

"It's like a story about your life, written by someone else."

I clicked the button on the slide, showing the correct definition, "very good. That's a perfect answer, well done, Michael. A biography, like Michael said, is an account of someone's life written by someone else. Now, if that's what a biography is, what do we think an autobiography might be? Maddie? Any ideas?"

A short girl with two long braids smiled at me and answered, "yeah, if that's what a biography is. Is an autobiography, like, I dunno… automatically written about a person. Like wikipedia or something?"

I side-smirked, "not quite, fairly close. A good try, and good job for trying to pick up on the 'auto'. Can anybody help Maddie out?"

Jessica put her hand up after looking around to see that nobody else was going to, "uh, an autobiography is an account of a person's life written by that person."

"Correctamundo! A word I have never used… and hopefully never will again," I received a few laughs for that one, "alright, so, autobiographies. For the first couple of weeks that's what we'll be focusing on. If you can, I'd like you to start your own autobiography. This is just to see how well you're doing and where you are up to in terms of the topic. I've got some sentence starters on the board if you need them. Write what you can, and we'll see where we can go from there. Off you go! First page in your new yellow books. Date and title is on the board, can we underline them please? Thanks."

I sat back down at my desk and added the note of underlining the date and title to the slide, something I had just remembered they wanted us to do now. I heard the quiet muttering of the students discussing what games they were playing at break, and the scratching of pens on the paper. I looked up to see that most of them were on task, all of them had at least written the first few lines, which in itself was a good start considering they hadn't done this before. They needed to keep up the pace so that I could mark them by the end of the week. I would have marked them for the following day, but I could tell from the noise levels rising that it was unlikely that they would all finish. After about ten minutes I started to walk around the classroom, answering questions and taking a look at their work. A small group of boys sat in the corner were all talking about their summer and I recognised a few of them who I had seen engaging in intense water gun fights. I moved over in there direction, they talking getting quieter when they saw me approaching.

"What are we writing about so far boys?" I asked.

Jake, who was among the boys, answered first, "I've written about my life back in D.R. and what we do now."

"That sounds good so far, can I have a look?"

He slid the book across the desk to me and I read from it. He had written a somewhat decent amount in the time given, I skimmed through it, not wanting to read too much until I marked it.

"Very good, keep it up," I walked away from them and glanced around the class again.

I noticed that Jessica hadn't taken her eyes off of her book yet and was writing very quickly. She had written almost two pages already. I smiled to myself… I was like that. After half an hour we paused and went over what everyone had done so far, some kids read sections of their autobiographies to the class. They continued, more focused than before. I sat on the edge of my desk and disconnected my laptop from the big screen and opened up a fresh document to write a brief autobiography of my own to use as an example.I left out the major details. The bell for lunch rang.

"Sorry, didn't realise what time it was. I'll clear up, you can go. Have a good lunch!"

They ran out in groups again, clutching their bags which probably had their food in them. Jessica stood up, still scribbling onto the paper. She handed me her book when I was collecting everyone else's.

"I… I finished it, sir," she stuttered.

"Really? That's great! I'm impressed. Don't you have lunch to eat, Jessica?"

She shrugged, "you can call me Jess, that's fine, too. It's easier."

I nodded, "m'kay, Jess. Well, I'll see you after lunch. We're doing math and then some science, sound good to you?"

She nodded, "yeah, but English is the best."

"That's what I think, but I unfortunately have to teach you the other stuff, too."

She went off again after saying goodbye and I locked my classroom door behind me as I made my way to the staff room. Herc was in there along with some other teachers. I grabbed my lunch from the fridge and refilled my travel mug with hot coffee, sitting next to my gym teacher friend. He took a piece of cold pasta from my tub and I scowled at him. He shrugged and drank from his own mug of coffee. I ate half of the pasta and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Here, have the rest."

"Really? Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure. I made too much, have the rest. It'll only go to waste."

I drank from the travel mug, burning my lips and throat. That's better. I pulled out my notebook and looked through the notes for multiplication and division.

"Why would they change math?" I grumbled.

"Beats me, but then I never did well in math."

"Oh, before I forget, here."

I gave him Lafayette's number and told him to put it into his phone.

"I'll tell him about you when I get home. Don't call him till I've told him. Wait till tomorrow."

He nodded and thanked me. After the hour long lunch break ended, I dished out the dark blue square-paper books to the individual students along with some pencils. They immediately copied out the date and title, underlining both, as instructed. I explained the different techniques and methods to find the answers to both multiplication questions and division questions. Most picked up well, and I went around to help those who struggled. I put up some practise questions on the board to see if they understood thoroughly. I was pleased to see that they were soaring through them. Not much work needed there. I decided that we could probably start on the circuits earlier considering they had practically nailed the math lesson. I took away their math books and gave out the green science books. On my desk, I set out the red and black wires, batteries and lamps. I showed them all what each item was and told them to sketch the circuit diagram shown on the board into their books.

"Okay, working with the people next to you, decide who is gonna be person A, B and C. So that's, you three… you three…" I told them who would be working with who as they looked confused. It was a nice number, dividing into eight even groups.

"Person A, can you collect three wires? Person B, two lamps, and person C, two batteries. Can anybody tell me why I'm telling you to get this much stuff when the diagram uses less? Yeah, Maddie?"

"Because if one is faulty, you can have a backup and test it."

"Exactly right! Right, off you go, tell me if you need some help."

They worked together, much louder than before, and seemed to figure the circuits out relatively quickly. Another one I wouldn't have to go over much. Before we knew it, we were packing up our experiments and getting ready to go home. I collected their books and put them on my desk, telling them to put up their chairs on the tables and to stand in their places. The bell rang and I dismissed them all without delay. I had three piles of books on my desks already and slipped them into a carrier bag I had brought. Might as well have had a little look through them when I got home.

I grabbed all of my stuff and headed for the subway, taking it back and walking down to my apartment. Damn, my room was cooler in comparison to the outside weather. I was still smiling despite the overwhelming heat which made the clothing I was wearing very uncomfortable. Today was a good day. I didn't know why I was worried. God, I loved my job. I opened the door to see Laf drinking some weird concoction.

"Welcome home, mon ami! How was it?" He asked.

"Great. Really great. The kids are awesome, they did the work… it was amazing."


End file.
